


bésame mucho

by midnightmumblings



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Eddie knows how to play guitar, First Kiss, Fluff, Getting Together, Guitar is sexy, M/M, and Buck is very much into it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-17
Updated: 2021-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-26 02:33:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,095
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30098943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/midnightmumblings/pseuds/midnightmumblings
Summary: Eddie knows how to play guitar.Buck does not know what to do with that information.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 6
Kudos: 213





	bésame mucho

**Author's Note:**

> I had a need for Eddie Diaz knowing how to play guitar and Buck being so into it. This is the result of that.
> 
> The song is "Bésame Mucho" by Andrea Bocelli. I'm unsure if the translation is accurate, as I took it from here: https://lyricstranslate.com/en/besame-mucho-kiss-me-lot.html#songtranslation, but I hope I got as close as possible.
> 
> Unbeta'd so any mistakes are mine!
> 
> Thanks for reading!

To be fair, Buck did hear the sound of guitar before he opened the door to Eddie's house, but he assumed the other man was just playing music as he did when he had chores to do.

He was not expecting to step into the house to see Eddie perched on a chair in the living room, guitar in his hands, eyes closed as he let the quick melody wash over him.

It was a mesmerizing sight. Eddie's fingers moved across the fretboard almost as if they were flying, his other hand plucking the strings with sure, decisive movements. His arms flexed as he produced hypnotizing music that echoed around the house. His eyes remained closed, but there was a content smile on his face, like he was reminiscing. Buck found himself stuck where he stood, unwilling to make any sound for fear of interrupting the moment and destroying the peace Eddie seems to have built for himself.

The melody eventually slowed, Eddie's fingers came to a stop on the fretboard, and he opened his eyes.

And promptly shrieked at the sight of Buck standing there with his jaw hanging open.

"Buck!" Eddie yelped, gripping the guitar tightly as it threatened to slip from his grasp. "When did you get here? How long have you been standing there?"

It took considerable effort for Buck to peel his jaw from the floor, but be managed to shut his mouth with an audible click.

"Been here for a while," He finally managed to say. "You uh...you play?"

Buck internally cringed at the question as he gestured to the general direction of the guitar on Eddie's lap. _Of course he knew how to play_ , _what a dumb question, Buckley,_ he mentally chastised himself. 

Eddie lets out a small laugh, flashing Buck an impish grin as he did so. "Yeah, I've been playing since I was a teenager. I don't play much these days, but when I get some time, I take it out. Helps me when I'm stressed."

Buck found himself nodding, brain still tripping over _oh no oh fuck he's got a hidden talent why is that so hot._

Eddie regards him with a wary look. "You uh, you wanna come in? I'll get you a beer," he said, standing up and placing the guitar back in its case. Buck finally gets his legs moving and he crosses the room to settle into the couch adjacent to the chair Eddie was just occupying. 

As Eddie busied himself in the kitchen, Buck forced himself to relax. He knew that his feelings for Eddie were gently spilling over from platonic friendship to something else he doesn't dare touch just yet, but there was just something so beautiful about the way Eddie cradled the guitar in his hands, looking so serene with the way he almost swayed to the music he was creating. It made Buck's heart thump louder in his chest. The sight made him ache with want. 

A bottle of IPA appears in his line of sight, and Buck gratefully takes it from Eddie who gives him an amused look.

"You okay over there?" 

Buck gives him a smile that he hopes is somewhere in the realm of "reassuring."

"Yeah, I was just surprised. I didn't know you could play," he said, glancing toward the guitar case as he did so. "How'd you get started?"

"It started as a hobby. I remember it was my _Abuelo_ who taught me when I was a kid," Eddie replied as he settled on the couch next to Buck. "I asked my parents for lessons, but my dad didn't think it'd be a useful skill, so I learned pretty much everything from my _Abuelo_."

Eddie smiles as he spoke, a wistful look on his face. Buck turns to him and the movement causes Eddie to look up at him, a question in his eyes.

"You're really good," Buck tells him, gesturing to the guitar. "You should play more."

"Yeah?" Eddie asks, sounding a little breathless. Buck realizes just how close they are to each other, so he pulls away a bit.

"Yeah," he responds, placing a hand on Eddie's knee. He has no idea where this newfound courage is coming from, but Eddie is not jostling his hand away. Instead, his smile brightens.

"Can you play me something?" Buck asks after a while. "I'd love to hear more."

"For you? Sure," Eddie responds, making his way and unclasping the guitar case and pulling the guitar to him as he rejoins Buck on the couch. "Any special requests?"

Buck grins at him. "Surprise me."

Eddie lets out a practice strum before he settles the guitar and proceeds to play a song.

* * *

It becomes a thing. 

Buck has lost count of how many nights he's spent at Eddie's, simply watching him play the guitar, lost in his own little bubble as he did so.

Their routine consisted of helping Chris with his homework, dinner, one movie (on some nights), and when they'd finally put Chris to bed, Buck would turn to look at Eddie with a request on the tip of his tongue, and nine times out of ten, Eddie was already bringing his guitar out.

Listening to Eddie, watching him get absorbed into the music as he practically made the guitar sing with his fingertips, was a magical experience. It was as if his stresses of the day would just melt away, like the soft lilt of guitar would carry the weight for him just for a while.

Eddie was very passionate about his craft, and it was evident with the way he got lost in his own music. Some nights, Eddie would play a song that Buck was familiar with. On other nights, he'd treat him to an original composition. His originals were not as polished as the songs he's practiced, but there was a beauty to their rawness, like Eddie was putting his heart out there in his music.

And well, judging by the way the music seemed to always nudge its way and settle into Buck's very bones, he probably was.

(He really hoped he was.)

They were in Eddie's backyard right now, sitting on the back porch as they shared a six-pack between them, alcohol loosening up any inhibitions. Eddie had his guitar out, and he was just idly strumming along, and Buck was content to sit there and listen.

"Can you teach me?" Buck asked once there was a lull in the music. Eddie glanced over at him, and Buck could almost feel the electricity between them. 

Fuck, he really hope he wasn't reading this wrong.

"Come here," Eddie said, gesturing for Buck to sit a step down, and Buck moved over and settled on the step. He shivered when Eddie placed the guitar in his hold and then wrapped his arms around him to reach.

He was keenly aware of Eddie's hot breath against his neck, and he resisted the urge to shudder in pleasure.

"Place your fingers here," Eddie said, gently moving Buck's fingers on the fret, pressing down with light pressure on a chord. "That's a C; go ahead, try strumming."

Buck did so, and he winced at the sound that he created. Eddie chuckled deeply and reached around to position his hand on the strings.

"When you strum, you need to make sure you're pressed down firm on the strings, so the sound doesn’t come out like that,” he explained patiently, breath hot against Buck’s neck. “Go ahead, try it.”

Buck strummed a little firmer, the sound fuller this time around. 

“Good job,” Eddie murmured. “You want to try a chord progression?”

Buck nodded, and they spent the better part of an hour trying a simple chord progression. Buck fumbled his way through the chords, but he couldn’t really blame his lack of talent or anything. It was getting hard to concentrate with the way Eddie was practically draped over his back, strong arms enveloping him as he taught him the proper way to hold down the chords and strum. 

If Buck had his way, he’d want to stay in this position forever, his head practically leaning on Eddie, listening to the vibrations in his chest when the older man spoke or laughed. 

Eddie got his guitar back once Buck managed to get the chord progression down, and he was sure he was imagining it, but Eddie’s eyes looked dark as they locked gazes. Buck chalked it up to the dry, Californian heat. It was messing with his mind.

“Can you play me one more song?” Buck then asked, and Eddie nodded.

“What do you want to hear?” came the whispered question.

Buck shrugged. “Anything. Surprise me,” he whispered back just as softly.

Eddie paused, nodded, and he started to strum.

And, to Buck’s utter surprise, he started to _sing._

_“Bésame, bésame mucho_

_Como si fuera esta la noche_

_La última vez_

_Bésame, bésame mucho_

_Que tengo miedo a perderte_

_Perderte después”_

Buck’s mouth fell open, letting Eddie’s deep voice wash over him in the quiet of the night. Eddie was looking right at him as he sang those words, and Buck could feel the weight of the whispered lyrics in his very soul. 

He moved closer, leaning into Eddie’s space as he continued to sing, voice strong and unwavering, his fingers plucking a beautiful melody that Buck would never tire of hearing.

  
  


_“Quiero tenerte muy cerca_

_Mirarme en tus ojos_

_Verte junto a mi_

_Piensa que tal vez mañana_

_Yo ya estaré lejos_

_Muy lejos de ti”_

Buck was utterly hypnotized, and he could not help but just _look_ at Eddie. He met his gaze, unwilling to even tear his eyes away for fear of destroying the moment. His heart is beating rapidly against his ribcage, and he wants nothing more than to drown in the soft lull of Eddie’s voice.

_“Bésame, bésame mucho_

_Que tengo miedo a perderte_

_Perderte después_

_Que tengo miedo a perderte_

_Perderte después”_

The music softened, but Eddie’s gaze was still on him. For a while, neither of them spoke, Buck still staring into his dark eyes.

“What does that mean?” He finally asks, and he smiled at the pink rising on Eddie’s cheeks.

The older man fiddles with the strings of his guitar for a moment, but he lets out a deep breath.

“ _Bésame, bésame mucho,_ means _kiss me...kiss me a lot.”_

Buck’s breath hitched at that, and he leaned in a bit closer. Eddie did not pull back.

“ _Como si fuera esta noche, La última vez,_ means _As if tonight was the last time.”_

There was a certainty in Eddie’s voice, and yet, there was an underlying hint of fear, almost as if he was afraid that Buck was going to say no.

“And, what do the rest say?”

“ _Bésame, bésame mucho, Que tengo miedo a perderte, Perderte después_ ,” Eddie whispers into the night, finally placing his guitar down next to him as he pulls Buck even closer, their lips almost touching but not quite yet.

“What does _that_ mean?” Buck asks softly, afraid to move or even _breathe,_ lest the moment only be a dream. 

Eddie swallows, but his voice is firm when he responds.

“It means _kiss me, kiss me a lot...because I fear to lose you...to lose you later on."_

That was all Buck needed to close the gap. He presses their lips together, hot and needy, and Eddie kisses back just as fiercely, causing a jolt of fire to light up in his body. It felt like too much and not enough all at once, Buck greedily climbing into Eddie’s lap as he let himself be devoured, Eddie’s kiss igniting something within him that he never thought he’d ever feel before.

Eddie takes him to bed that night, whispering praises of awe against his skin, loving him fully as he pressed inside, their breaths intermingling in the night.

The next morning, Buck woke up with Eddie sitting next to him, guitar perched on his lap. He grinned at the sight of the older man, brown hair sticking up at odd angles, content to sit in the sunlight without a shirt on.

“I wrote a new song for you,” Eddie simply says once he leans over to kiss Buck _good morning._

Buck grins and nestles back into the pillows. “Let me hear it then.”

The music starts up, a little rough and a little raw, obviously a new composition that wasn’t even a few hours old.

Still, it was the most beautiful thing Buck’s ever heard in his life. 

* * *

  
  



End file.
